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Tim Carty's Trial; 



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OR, 



I Whistling at Landlords. 



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A PLAY FOR THE TIMES. 



By 

SISTER MARY FRANCIS CLARE. 

(the nun of kenmare.) 



^^WtLC/^ 



NEW YORK: 

Stephen Mearns, Printer. 

73 Barclay Street. 

1886 



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Tim Carty'S Teial; 



OR, 



Whistling at Landlords, 



A PLAY FOR THE TIMES. 

/ 

SISTER MARY FRANCIS CLARE. 

(the nun of kenmare.) 



J 
r 



'<f^J^^^^H?'C^^ 




NEW YORK: 

Stephen Mearns, Printer. 

73 Barclay Street. 

1886 



Copyright, 

Sister M. Francis Clare Cusack, 

188G. 



Take Notice. 
Right of representation reserved. Dramatic Societies and 
others wishing to use this Play, will please communicate with 

Sister M, Francis Clare, 

78 Grand St., Jersey City, N. J. 



INTRODUCTION. 



I HAVE been asked many times during the 
last few years, to write some Plays, for use 
in Colleges, Academies, and Convent - Schools. 
Several others are in preparation. The present 
Play is especially suited to passing events, and 
a little Comedy may not lessen the value of the 
information which it conveys, on the important 
subjects which so deeply affect the temporal and 
spiritual future of the Irish race. 

As some of the speeches are too long for acting, 
I have published a cheaper edition in which they are 
very much curtailed and the appendix omitted. 

Sister M. Francis Clare, 

Sisters of Peace, 
78 Grand Street, Jersey City, N. J. 



gvamati^i ^mmMx. 



Lord Drive-em-out, Irish Landlord who lives iu England. 

Mr. Evictem, Lord Drive-em-out's Agent. 

Father O' Sullivan, Parish Priest. 

Two Sisters. 

* Tim Carty, boy of six j^ears, who whistled at a Landlord. 

•Mr. Happyrock (Gladstone). 

Lord Stopper (Cork). 

Earl of Uplands (Lansdowne). 

Duke of Kiltenants (Devon). 

Sir Little Emly. 

Sir Very Very (de Vera). 

Lord Corningham. 

31r. Justice, (wish-to-be Lord Chancellor.) 

Mr. Wiley, (wish-to-bo judge,) Q. C. 

Mr. Costs, Solicitor. 

Mr. Fearless, Counsel for the National League, 

]Mr. Rock-rent-em, J. P. 

Tim O'Sullivan. 

Thomas Brownrigg. 

James McCarthy. 

John Moloney. 

Police, Judges, Jury, Crowd of Tenants, etc., etc. 



* A child was really tried in Ireland for whistling as a landlord passed by. 

Note.— A great deal of capital was made for Irish landlords, because of 
the alleged inhumanity of the Irish to dumb animals, /n^er alia a few hairs 
were pulled out of the tail of a ptt donkey, belonging to Lord Lansdowne's 
children. 



Tim Carty's Trial 

OR ; 

Whistling at Landlords. 



JLOT I. 

ScENxC, — A refit office. Maps of the estate hung on the walls. 
Landlord maps of Ireland, showing hoic much they own, and how Wile 
the people own. The table scattered oxer with lists of tenants who are 
to he evicted, or to have their rents raised. 

Enter Landlord, Loud Drive-em-out. He takes up a newspaper 
in which he finds a report of a Land League meeting at which the 
fourth "^" has been suggested to landlords — ''to fly.'" Looks at it. 
Crushes it in his hand^ flings it on the ground^ and commences to 
soliloquise. 

Lord Drive-em-out. 

To fly, or not to fly, that is the question: 

Whether 'tis safer to suffer in the purse 

The loss of rent, and these outrageous hind leaguers, 

Or to defy this sea of meetings, and, hy opposing, end them; 

Or by coercion, or some other means, to gain the victory? 

Alas ! alas ! this is a consummation devoutly to he wished. 

To fly, to go — but then, to have less money — there's the rub; 

For in my English home what needs I have, 

For in that home what calls may come 



8 TIM CARTTS TRIAL; 

When I have shuffled off these men. 

For who could bear their land league gibes and taunts, 

Their hate of landlords, and their scorn of rents ; 

Their insolence of power, and the wild way they flout 

All our past care of tenants. 

Belter, perchance, to fly, when rents have ceased, 

Into some other country — (could I find it) — 

Where I might quickly extirpate the race, 

As my forefathers did in Erin. 

Or shall I bear the ills I have, and even Parnell, 

Or dare meet others that I know not of. 

Alas ! I think betimes our greed makes robbers of us all. 



{Enter land Agent with obsequious how. ) 

Mr. Evictem. My lord, I interrupt your lordship. Your 
lordship's tenants await your lordship's will. 

{Soft whistling lieard outside tJie windows. Tune: "■ TJte whistling 
thief.'') 

Lord Drive-em-out. ( Turning to Agent icith threatening looks). 
Pray sir, what does this mean, sir ? Am I to be whistled at, on 
these— ahem ! — rare occasions on which I visit my estate ? 

Mr. Evictem. Some boy, my lord ; some thoughtless boy. 
Indeed, indeed, my lord, since your lordship's laud league — I 
mean the land leaguer's lordship — in fact — 

{Whistling grows louder^ and some shout defiantly outside.) 

Lord Drive-em-out. This is in-tol-er-able, sir. If you are 
not shot instantly, as you would have been long ago, if you 
had managed the estate properly, I will get another agent, sir. 
I must have order. 



OR, WHISTLING AT LANDLORDS. 9 

( WMstUnff, joined in by several boys, grows louder still — more defiant 
— noise of a crowd ontside. Lord Drive-em-out looksrather nervous 
— mores about — yets near a icindow to look out — stares back at some 
sudden noise — ). 



{Noise outside like a rewher sliot. Me. Evictem slioics symptoms 
of fear.) 

Mr. Evictem. Better be quiet, my lord. I assure you, my 
lord, times have changed ; old manners, you know, my lord, 
and all that kind of thing: though, indeed, the Times does say, 
my lord— 

{Singing outside, one man's clear wice, sings :) 

Oh ! no, we never mention it, 

The name is never heard. 
Eviction, for excessive rent, 

Is a forgotten word. 

Lord Drive-em-out. Ton my honor, sir, this is a nice state 
of things, a very nice state of things. 

Mr. Evictem. My lord — I think, my lord, you had better 
pacify them. I assure you, my lord, its all that confounded 
land league, and those returned Americans, my lord. They're 
a bad lot, aud worse when thej'^ come home ; though, of course, 
the}' could not come home if they had not gone out. You see, 
my lord, these Americans have such ideas of independence, they 
actually think a man right to have some profit for himself from 
his farm — 

{Loud mices outside : Three cheers for the land league, boys — 
hud clieering — three cheers for Davitt — three cheers for Parnell — 
three cheers for old Ireland — and groans for the bad landlords — 
awful groaning.) 

Mr. Evictem. My lord ! my lord ! you had really better see 



10 TIM CAETY'S TRIAL; 

them. They only want you lo lower their rents, but they will 
not pay more than Griffith's valuation ; and, after all, my lord, 
you know you might do it just lor one year. There's your rent- 
roll: £(50,000 a year, from your Kerry estate ; £20,000, from your 
3Ieath estate ; £40,000, from your Limerick property ; and, if 
you take off what you put on over Griffith, you will still have 
nearly £60,000 for your expenses in England and on the Contin- 
ent. You might as well promise anyway, and get safel}' out of 
this. 

LoKD Drive-em-out. And, pray, M'here am I to get money 
f(jr my race horses, and to keep up my stud ; and, do you know, 
sir, I am master of the hounds in the county in England where 
myijmallest property is, and it costs me £10,000 a year to keep 
that up. And, if my Irish tenants don't pay for it, who is to 
pa}^ for it ? Just ansv/er me that, sir. The lazy hounds — I mean 
the lazy Irish. Sir, my hounds must be well fed ; and the}'' can- 
not live on potatoes, sir. And, then, the parson of the parish in 
England expects me to give coal, and blankets, and soup, and 
flannels all the winter round, and where is the money to come 
flora for that, sir, if I am only to get Griffith's valuation from 
these lazy blackguards. Evict them, sir! evict the whole of 
them ! clear the countr}-, sir ! Do what Cromwell did, sir ! He 
knew how to manage Ireland, sir ! — 

Mr. Evictem. But, my lord — 

Lord Drive-em-out. But me no buts, sir. It's the butt end 
of a musket they want, sir, or buckshot, sir, {smiles grimly). 
Foster's a clever fellow, sir; clever fellow — member of the So-cie- 
ty of Friends, sir ; wanted to shoot them easy and mercifully, 
sir ; against his conscience to kill, sir ; but killing is no murder 
when it's done in Ireland ; soothed his conscience, sir, by pro- 
fessing to do it the easiest wa}^ ; bullets sounds hard, you know, 
sir ; too rough for a peaceful 'friend,' but buckshot, sir; quite 
a new easy remedy for Irish complaints ; showed such good feel- 
ing, you know, sir, to let them die easy—- 



OR, WHISTLINO AT LANDLORDS. 11 

Mb. Evictem. But — I mean, if you please, my lord, some of 
them can't pay their rents — 

Lord Drive-em-out. Who said they could, sir? What do I 
care — you understand me — I nmst have my rents. 

{A loud knock at the rent-office door. Lord Drive-em-out look.'i 
alarmed.) 

Mr. Evictem. You need not be afraid, my lord. I assure 
you the people are very quiet. The priests M'on't allow theiu to 
commit any outrages. We had real difficulty to make up any 
for the papers, only for your donkey's tail, my lord — I mean, the 
tail of your donkej'^ — 

{Another loud knock. A hoy opens the door and jfeeps in ; rit ns out 
again.) 

Mr. Evictem. Onlj'- for that donkey, my lord, I don't know 
what we'd do. Told so well with the English public, ha ! ha ! 
ha ! Why, you, sir — I mean, my lord, everj'- hair of that tail 
was worth its weight in gold. Heard one of those nuns, who's 
been demoralizing your lordship's tenants, by feeding them, got 
a letter from an English gentleman to know was it true. Stop- 
ped the supplies, my lord, at once. Could not think of helping 
such a vile lot. Could not think of feeding men who would 
hurt a hair of the tail of j'our noble lordship's donkey. Well, 
sir — I mean, my lord, it was the best outrage ever happened — 
told so well — English papers full of the base ingratitude of the 
people for whom — ha ! ha ! ha ! — your lordship had made so 
many sacrifices— had even come to live amongst them — of 
course you can never come here again. We got a house burned 
down after ; but it did'nt do so well — wanted the touch of sen- 
timent that made up the donkey's tail — lordship's children, you 
know, and all that — 

Lord Drive-em-out. What do you mean, sir ? about my 
children being donkeys ? You don't know what you are saying, 
sir. You are presuming I What donkeys, sir ? 



n TIM CABTT8 TBIAL ; 

Mr. Evictem. My lord, I humbly ask your lordship's pardon 
and the donkey — I mean the children's, my lord — would not 
have touched a hair of his tail, sir, but, you know, my lord, w^e 
should have an outrage to get the place proclaimed, and the 
children's — I mean, my lord, Petty— petty — and Lady Ellen 
Pettj^'s donkey told so well— so inhuman, you know, to ill-treat 
poor dumb animals, and, above all, a donkey that the children — 
I mean, my lord, — and the young my lady rode. Anyway, it 
stopped the relief, my lord ; you know it did. You know the 
English gentlemen who were sending help to the nuns here 
stopped it at once. The nuns couldn't deny, j'ou know, that, 
for once, anyw^ay. Couldn't go on, you know, my lord, with 
evictions, and all that, while the people were starving, and you 
know they were, my lord — 

Lord Drive-em-out. I know nothing of the kind, sir. It 
was not their business to starve. Treated so well, too, as they 
were, and all the timelw^as getting money to give them employ- 
ment from the government, and they would not take it — would 
not improve their farms at their ow-n expense. I will write to 
the Times^ sir ; and take care that English people shall know 
w^hat they are. Hear them now" out there. I must have the riot 
act read. Get the police, sir! We want more police, sir! Tele- 
graph to-night to the castle and say my life is not safe here! I'll 
have no nonsense, sir! If you are shot I can get another agent 
quickly enough in your place, but who is to fill my place, sir ; 
answer me that, sir ? 

{Enter 7 or 8 respectable farmers. One is being pushed forward a 
little by the rest. A voice just outside is heard singing : ) 



Song. — How the British Lion Roars. 

How the British lion roars, 
Except when he's near the Boers, 
And then he sings so small, 
Ha I ha ! he ! he ! 



OR, WHISTLING AT LANDLORDS. IS 

And he saj'-s you are so strong, 
I'm sure I'm in the wrong, 
I ask your pardon with liumility, 
I ask your pardon with humility. 

When you fight, I cut and run, 
But I never see the fun 
Of giving in to people who are weak, 
Weak, weak. 

For never, on the strong. 
Could I think of doing wrong, 
I have far too much humility, 
I have far too much humility. 

Candahar I could not keep, 
Though I bought it once so cheap, 
And only lost my honor and my crown, 
Crown, crown. 

And that wicked man, rarnell— 
Oh ! who can ever tell — 
How I cannot sleep for thinking 
Of his plans, plans, plans. 



{Enter crmcd of irinhvien.) 

1st Man. Och ! go back ! 

2nd Man. Spake up, man ! 

3rd Man. Tell his honor the truth ! 

4th Man. His honor, faith ye may go look for it ! if he ever 
ad any. he's left it after him in England. 

5th Man> Costs too much to bring it across the say. 



14 TIM CARTYS TEIAL; 



1st Man. Ah ! go on, man ! 



OTH Max, Faith he raiglit carry it with him all day and not 
feel the weiglit — 

1st Man. Hould j-our tongues, boys. Mike's speaking up 
illegant to him. I gave him a glass of Guinness' stout afore he 
came in — 

3nd Man. Thrue for ye, and shure it's the only stout thing ini 
all Ireland — 

f 

1st Man. Oh ! boys, do whist ! I \ 

3rd Man. Ah ! ])ad manners to ye, ye villains, and ye'r talk 
about the stout. That same built the Protestant church in 
Dublin — 

2n.dMan. Which, man ? the portlier, or the manners? 

1st Max. 3[y lord, we come to ask our rents — 

Loud Dkive-em-olt. {AhMc). That's just wiiat I want, if I 
could only get it from tlie blackguards. 

1st Man. But, my lord, you know the bad years we havo 
had, four j'ears, my lord, one after the other ; and its hard on 
them that Iuas a family to keep — 

Lord Dkive-em-out. And, pray, sir, what have I to do with 
your family ? Its 3'our rent I want, sir, your rent ! 

1st Man. Shure, your honor, we know that, and its early . 
and late we worked to give it to your honor, my lord, for many 
a long year, but I have eleven of them, my lord — 

Lord Drive-em-out. Go, drown them in the bog-hole, tlien. ^ 



Note. — The speech used on this pni^e by a landlord to a tenant who pleaded 
his large famil)^ as one cause of non-payment of rent was actually made. 



on, WIIISTLlyQ AT LAKDLORDS. 15 

2nd Man, What ! im- lord, to take the life God almighty 
gave us to keep — 

\^The men ahrink hack in horror. 

1st Max. Faith, that's enough for us, ni}- lord. 

2nd Max. The Lord have mercy on us. Does he believe 
there's a God at all, at all ? 

3rd Max. Och ! then, shure he's as good as committed eleven 
murders, but shure the quality can do anything. God help us I 

4th Man. Shure its no wonder there's all them murders in 
England ; when they hould life so chape, killin' childer comes 
handy to them. 

1st Man. Och! holy Saint Patrick, what did we ever do to 
get them English over us ? 

\All retire to tJie back of the Mage. 



{TJie priest enters and addresses Lord DRiVE-EM-our.) 



Father O'Sullivan. My lord, will you not even listen to 
these people ? They dare not enter the rent office to ask for a 
reduction from your agent, who says {he looks at Mr. Evictem,) 
you will not allow one farthing. Do you not know that these 
poor people would have died of starvation last winter only for 
public charity, only for munificent America ? You may not 
be ashamed to live on public charity, but they are ashamed. 

Lord Drive-em-out. And, pray, Mr. O'Sullivan, is this {with 
a sneer,) the morality you teach your people, to refuse to pay 
their lawful debts. It's a contract, sir ; a contract. I have kept 
mine and they must keep theirs. They are an idle lot, and want 
to live on charitv. 



16 TIM OARTTB TRIAL; 

Father O'Sullivan. The taunt comes well from your lord- 
ship. Pray, what do you do to earn your bread ? and, pray, on 
whose charity are you living ? You are living on the charity of 
the Irish in America, my lord ; yon dare not deny it, and if 3'ou 
had one spark of manhood you would be ashamed. You get 
some £00,000 a year from your tenants here ; and, pra)% where 
do they get it to give you ? Well do you know that jou are 
living on the hard earnings of the Irish girls in America ; of poor 
girls and boys who send home their money to pay the rent for 
their fathers and mothers ; and what matter if you even spent it 
in Ireland. You know well you only come to Ireland to get 
your rents, and perhaps to save expenses, that you may have 
more money to spend in England, on 3'our pleasures and on your 
fashionable friends. If men like you could know shame, you 
would die with shame to be living on the public purse. 

(Lord Drive-em-out icalks about and gets excited during the latter 
part of this speech. ) 

Lord Drive-em-out. Nonsense, nonsense, sir ! They take my 
land, and they have a right to pay me fur it. 

Father O'Sullivan. A right to pay you, my lord, and 
when did they ever deny that right, and refuse to pay you, until 
they had no mone}^ to give. Have a care, my lord, 3'ou are 
quarreling with God now, not with man. If He withholds the 
sun and sends the tempest, how can they reap such a harvest as 
will pay you. God is on the side of justice, my lord, and if you 
expect from the poor what God has not given them, you are not 
on the side ot justice, or of God. 

Lord Drive-em-out. It's no use to talk any more. I made a 
contract with them. 

Father O'Sullivan. You made a contract with them, so did 
the devil with Eve. Your pardon if I use strong language. 
There are times when truth must not be dressed 'n courtesies. 
In sooth, truth dressed in courtesies is often smothered lies. 



OB, WHISTLINO AT LANDLORDS. 11 

You made a contract with them ! my lord. Such a contract is 
made by force and fraud with famine and despair. When choice 
is absent, contract must be void. Oil ! w^liat a record of blaclv 
crime men go to liell witli, who rob tlie lioly poor. Let tliem 
disguise it as tliey may, God sees tlie nalied trutli. I pray, my 
lord, are you their only debtor ? How sickening is this cant of 
honesty and contract. You know well the honesty you Avant 
from your poor serfs. It is to give their all to you, and deny 
Iheir otlier creditors. It may do well for this world, but scarce- 
ly for the next. You English, once gave us a new religion, 
Avhich suited well your lusts. Scant talk there was of contract 
then, indeed ; you broke j'our every contract with your God. 
And- then 3'ou came to Erin, and did your evil best, by fire, and 
sword, and famine to make us do the same. And now, forsooth, 
you'd have us learn a new morality : to paj^ the landlord all, and 
leave the honest trader ruined and defrauded. I think j'ou 
know, my lord, we would not have your faith, and now we 
must decline your morals. 

Lord Dkive-em-out. My contract comes first, sir. I assure 
5'ou, I want to keep on terms with the priests, if I can. Now, in 
England, it is fashionable. The Catholic papers are quite full of 
this subject. There's the Catholic State, sir ; the paper of quite 
the fashionable classes, the — ahem ! — few Catholics who are 
cultured ; and it quite takes our side. .Says landlords should be 
paid in full, every penny, sir, and before all other creditors, no 
matter who they are : goes on theological grounds, sir, and con- 
tract, and all that. You know, sir, when Mr. Happyrock and 
other fellows wanted to stop the evictions in the — a — time, you 
thought — said — I mean last winter — ah — that there was distress 
in Ireland, all the English Catholic peers came to the House of 
Lords and showed their good feeling by voting against 3'ou ; 
most of them had never voted in the House of Lords before, in 
fact, the)^ rarely ever come therefor any purpose. But they felt 
a great principle was at stake. Their social position in England 
required they should show how they disapproved of all this non- 
sens© about distress, and — and— all this dishonesty. 



18 TIM C ARTY'S TRIAL; 

Father O'Sullivan. I am quite well aware of it, my lord. 
It may happen that I know a good deal more than your lordship 
does about this matter. I know, for i have seen the letter, that 
even some English Catholics tried to prevent help being sent to 
Ireland in her hour of need, even while they were getting 
thousands upon thousands from their fashionable penitents for a 
wealthy church in London. 1 know, too, that the same fashion- 
able Catholics did their best to make the distress appear as 
trifling as possible. It was not quite convenient to believe it ; 
while they admitted that Catholic ladies were lying awake at 
night, wondering how they were to get money, to pay for their 
costly dresses and jewels. But, I think, my lord, they are bad 
guides for you. We have heard a great deal of talk about the 
conversion of England, but we have seen much of its effect in 
Ireland. 

We hear English Catholics talk, and we know they write, as 
if they had a special mission to regulate every affair iti the 
world and especially in Ireland, as if the soul of a lord or a 
Protestant clergyman was of more consequence than the souls 
of thousands of our poor people. Perhaps if these great support- 
ers of Irish landlord oppression talked less like men of the world 
and acted more like Christians the conversion of England would 
not be so far off. 

Lord Drive-em-out. Oh ! well ; you know, it would be better 
for the priests to pull with the landlords. You see, in England, 
they go quite with the upper classes. I assure you, Mr. O'Sul- 
livan, in London the churches are so magnificent ; not like your 
wretched hovels here. 

Father O'Sullivan. Perhaps, my lord, we worship God 
as well in the wretched hovels, as you are pleased to call our 
Churches. I admit they are such too often in country places. 
Our people are too poor to build better ones ; and these wealthy 
Catholics, though they pride themselves on their own Churches, 
will do nothing for us. And, I know well, in England, how our 
poor people are scorned and despised if they go to the Chapels 
of the great English lords. We wonder little when we hear in 



OR, WHISTLING AT LANDLORDS. 19 

Ireland of so many converts who have apostatized, and of so 
many fashionable Catholics who make mixed marriages ; but, my 
lord ; we have other work to do in Ireland. We may not be 
fashionable, or please the fashionable world but we keep our 
ancient faith. 

Lord Drive-em-out. Oh! jou can't expect me to like the 
Irish. I know they don't like me ; hate me, in fact. 

Father O'Sullivan. My lord ; you might have won their 
love for half the pains you took to earn their hate, and it would 
have served you better. You babble of ingratitude. Ingrati- 
tude, forsooth ! I pray you, say what j'ou have done to merit 
gratitude. What word, or look, or act of yours, has shown your 
love for them. They are but men ; and you, forsooth, while 
still reviling them, demand that they shall act like angels ; shall 
love you, serve you, give their lives for you, who hate them, 
like foul fiends. A truce, my lord, to all this folly ; or ere you 
dream, a stern, sharp end may come. You talk with scorn of 
these uncultured hinds. I pray you, sir ; what has your culture 
taught you ? If it has taught you mother-love, then let me quote 
a line from classic sources : Plautus says, that "the god's 
mills grind slowly, but exceeding small." Slowly, indeed; 
docs retribution come for sinful deeds, or else those men \\ho 
rob God's poor were damned in the act. 

Do you read Shakespeare, prince of poets, pride of Englisli 
bards? lie sa3's : "The quality of mercy is not strained. It 
droppeth like the gentle rain from Heaven upon the plain be- 
neath." I mean no idle quibble here, my lord ; but all the rain 
of mercy that we get from you is raising rents. The patient 
tiller of the barren earth must wait upon the rain of Heaven. 
But you, my lord ; will wait neither for God nor man. 

Such is your hateful greed for gold, you psss the craven Jew ! 
He asked but flesh and blood ; but you have strewn the grave- 
yards, and the Atlantic caves, with bones of men all exiled from 
their homes, because they would not make the barren earth yield 
all you chose to ask. 



20 TIM CARTY'S TRIAL; 

Nay, I would ask, where shall the limit be ? At every turn of 
life you raise the rent. Are all times then so prosperous 'i How 
comes it that we never hear of a reduction ? Are seasons all the 
same; do cattle never die ? Are there not sickness, or plagues, 
or blights, that touch the poor man's purse? Are you to be his 
God, and bid him make for you gold out of nothing? For 
shame, my lord ! Is England christian still? Docs she believe 
the bible ? Once it was her boast to be a bible-loving race. But 
love doeth what love teacheth. If you love yowv bible, I pray 
you, do but what it asks. How says the great Apostle, James V 
You know his words. That "judgment without mercy shall be 
done to him that hath not mercy done." Where was your mercy 
in the famine time ? / ask you now ; one day you will be a-ked 
by God and all His angels! You tell us you love faith, and 
boast old England sends the light of truth to all the woild. I 
ask you where are your good works, and still I quote tuat book 
of which you say you read so much — of which we only a^k that 
you will keep its precepts. 'Twould seem, in truth, as if the 
great apostle never dreamed that man Avould do as you have 
done. How sternly he condemns the men who say to sister or 
to brother: "Go in peace; be warmed and filled, and gives 
them not the food or clothing that they need ;" but you, my lord, 
not only do what he condemns but add to it the further crime 
of ai^king from the naked, raiment ; from the starving, food. 
Who finds your costly fare ? Who finds the raiment rich, the 
jewels that you give not always to the pure? 'Tis true, you do 
not kill them. You only drive them from their poor, poor 
homes. The homes they love too well. Do you believe in God, 
or heaven, or hell, or in this bible ? {lie points to one conspicu- 
ously placed on the office table.) Did you give bread or clothes to 
these poor people when they starved ? Or, did you, at best, 
content j^ourself with "wishing" they were fed and clothed? 
You know, you dare not give your English dogs the food you 
give your Irish tenants. Go to, you say, make money for ray pleas- 
ures, I will give no straw nor help ; reclaim m}' land, I'll pay 
you with ejectments ; till barren rocks, I will reward you with a 
writ. Were you not made to starve and toil for me, your master? 

[He pauses a moment. 



OR, WHISTLING AT LANDLORDS. 21 

{The Gloria in Excelsis or some sacred music might be sung h£re by 
a distant choir ^ at tlie conclusion the priest goes on.) 

Hark ! hark ! ray lord, I hear the solemn chants. The gentle 
Nuns doing what you have left undone for God and man repair 
your crime. But j'^et, the}'' cannot stand for j^ou in judgment, 
for each must answer for himself. These Nuns have fed the 
poor whom you have robbed. These Nuns have clothed the 
naked whom you stripped — j^es, put it as you will, the cnme is 
yours. You claim the land as yours, the people as your serfs. 
Then, if you claim them, feed your serfs, and clothe them. 

Lord Drive- em-out. I listened to your long discourse, though 
tiiere is little reason in it. These people are the robbers. I am 
not ; and all your charge is wasted on me. 

Father O'Sullivan. My lord, I never hoped my words 
would have effect. But, in virtue of my office, I must use them. 
If you will not obej-- your God, can mortal hope for hearing? 
You say these men have robbed you and 3'ou w^rite 3'our miser- 
able tales of falsehood to an English press, where you know none 
are to contradict you. There you are the judge and jury, and 
the verdict given all in one. How these men can rob you, when 
they do not give what they do not possess, passes my comprehen- 
sion. Why, what is left to them but life, and well you know, 
my lord, how many lives were sacrificed upon the altar of your 
greed — but I have done : I see that speech is useless. Too long 
these men have given you what they should have kept to feed 
and clothe their offspring. 

{Eater Two Nuns in haste.) 

1st Nun. Oh ! father -, come. 

2nd Nun. Come, come in haste. Two women by the way- 
side flung are dying. Two men are lying faint with loss of 
blood. [ The priest hastens out. 



23 TIM C ARTY'S TRIAL; 

1st Nun. My lord, I ask your pardon for this haste, but 
death will wait for no man. My lord, as I am here, oh ! let me 
say a word of pleading ; of pleading for yourself, and for God's 
poor. 'Tis hard to think that you can be so cruel. Do you 
know, my lord ; your foster-mother is evicted ? Do you know 
that she who held you in her patient arms, through all your in- 
fancy lies dying by the wayside ? {He starts.) And for what 
crime ? The crime of poverty ! 

1 try to think that it is your ignorance, not a hard heart brings 
those evils on us. Alas ! you cannot know the wrongs and 
frauds. Knew you your mother ? Perchance, she died while 
you were young and left you to the care of other hands. Per- 
haps your heart was never touched by mother's love. And 
that you cannot feel so well as those who knew it once. Could 
you but see the sights we see, and hear the sounds we hear, 
each day, no sleep nor rest would come to you till you had 
justice done. It is not much we ask : not even merc}^ which 
you ask from God, but will not give to man. How will you 
at the last day dare to ask for mercy, when you will not give 
what is far less, strict justice. Your England boasts its bible; 
do you read it ? {She 2Muses a moment.) Put it as you will. 
Where do you get your daily food, but from these men ? They 
toil for it, with the big sweat drops on their brow. Your dainty 
hands, which only toil for their eviction death-warrants, are 
kept from labor by their toil, and then you turn and taunt them 
when they sink down by the wayside, broken with the work 
they did for you. You may stand well with the poor world, my 
lord, but think you, this will stand before God's angels. Oh ! you 
know it well, but you are lying to yourself and drinking doAvn 
the gall of evil. Alas! alas! alas! One day you must drink deep 
the wormwood of regret. To-day you let these men starve, while 
you feast. And by a black increasement of your guilt, you lie 
about their state, and try to keep all help from them. And why? 
because you know, my lord, you are the guilty oric ! You know 
if men in power in England knew all the truth, even they would 
scout you. 



OR, WHISTLING AT LANDLORDS. 23 

(Lord Driye-em-out mutters something to liimself and turns 
over the leaves of a book impatuntly.) 

Yes, my lord, I hear you say all this "is woman's talk." 
What do they know of social science, or of politics ? Perhaps 
not much, and yet, we know the good God made us all. And 
He who came to die for us has given His life for all. And we 
poor Sisters give our lives for those He loved so well. We do 
but ask that you will do a little justice to God's poor. And, if 
a Sister pleads, 'tis not the first time in the history of God's 
Church. She may be taunted, and despised, because she tells 
the truth. But we can bear it ! Your bible tells how Esther 
dared the wrath of a most cruel king to save her people. Your 
bible tells, how she forgot her woman's weakness in her nation's 
wrongs. Have you not read how Deborah ordered a battle, and 
how Sisera fell by woman's hand, how by God's prophet she 
was blessed for her brave deed. No woman's shrinking there, of 
freeing Israel from a tyrant; and if such deeds are not for women 
in these Gospel times, still more are women bound to deeds of 
mercy. 

You talk, my lord, of men of Erin's creed, who in another land 
applaud your tyrannies, and condemn those who oppose them. 
Tell them, I pray, that Joan of Arc is all but canonized ; that of 
the saints who are, the holy Nun St. Catherine of Sienna stood 
with boldest front against oppressors. How she held sway twixt 
Guelph and Ghibeline, and how this Nun, bold in the strength of 
Heaven, withstood them all, and conquered for her God. 

Such mission is not mine, but I must do my part for Erin and 
for God. Oh ! would, my lord, I could prevail with you to do 
but common justice to God's poor and to yourself. [Exit Nuns. 

End of First Act. 



24 TIM C ARTY'S TRIAL; 



^CT II. 

Scene. — Mr. Happyrock is found in a wood, felling trees. The 
trees can easily be represented by large stems made <f broicn paper. 
Mr. Happyrock has his coat off- The curtain rises on him alone 
felling the trunk of a tree. He pauses in the act and looks round 
and exclaims: 

Mr. Happyrock. Hard work, this. I declare, it's almost 
■worse than dealing with the Irish landlords. 

{Enter a Servant.) 

Servant. If you please, sir ; there's a deputation of Irish 
gentlemen — (Mr. Happyrock groans a/fidibly.) 

Before lie has time to reply, or the servant to deliver his message, they 
crowd in, tumultnously singing " Happ3'rock, spare our rents." 
These gentknien are : Lord Stopper, icho owns large estates in 
the South of Ireland, and spends the rents in England ; The 
Duke of Kiltenants, ditto ; The Earl of Uplands, ditto ; 
Lord F'etty Petty", a nephew of tlie Earl of Uplands ; Sir 
Little Emly, an English Catholic icho owns large property in 
Ireland, and spends most of his time in France ; Sir Very 
Very, ditto ; Lord Bams, ditto, ditto ; and others. 

All Sing in Chorus. 

Air. — '' Woodman, spare that tree." 

Happyrock, spare our rents, 

Touch not a single gale ; 
In '71 we stood to you, 

And now you cannot fail. *• 



OB, WHISTLING AT LANDLORDS. 25 

'Twas our forefathers' axe, 

That got us all tliis lot 
Of land in Erin, and I say. 

Your axe shall harm it not. 

Those dear and precious rents, 

We spend o'er land and sea, 
Say, would jom cut them down 

And cause our misery. 

Oft in the long ago, 

We promised to forgive 
These tenants part of what they owe, 

And let the wretches live. 

But we still cling to gold, 

For gold will all things bring. 
Ah ! Happj^rock, now hear our prayer — 

Gold is a blessed thing. 

Our rents we still must have, 

So woodman harm them not. 
What matter if these Irish die, 

We well can spare the lot. 

Then woodman, spare our rents. 

Touch not a single gale. 
And if you do, we'll stand for you, 

A peerage without fail. 



Solo. — The Duke of Kiltenants. 

Air.— ' Oft in the stilly night." 

Oft in these dreadful nights, 

When shots are flying round me, 

Fond memory brings the light 
Of other days around me. 



SG TIM CARTY'S TRIAL; 

I think of all I used to get, 

Without a single word, 
Out of my land across the sea — 

No murmurs then were heard. 

But oh ! alas ! how times are changed, 
And now this wintry weather, 

My agent writes to say he can't 
Get all my rents together. 

Oh ! Gladstone, Gladstone, wretched man, 

AVhut did we do to you V 
That you should now undo all the past, 

And all our work undo. 



Mr. Happyrock. Well, gentlemen, and pray what is the ob- 
ject of this deputation ? 

All. We want our rents. 

Mr. Happyrock. I don't want to take your rents from you. 
I only want you not to take everything from your unfortunate 
tenants. 

All. Confiscation ! Confiscation ! 

Mr. Happyrock. Well — {heleansmeditaticely onhis axe.) Well, 
gentlemen ; I think the less you say about confiscation the better. 
There is not one of you {he looks round sternly) who did not get 
his property by confiscation, and not so long ago, either. 

(Lord Corningham is pushed forward by the rest) 

Lord CoRNiNGHAM. Sir, these gentlemen — (Jwhows obsequious- 
ly right and left) These gentlemen with ms do me the honor of 



Or, whistling at landlords. S7 

asking me to speak for them, and their rents. You are perhaps 
aware that I am of tlie same religion as those unfortunate Irish. 

Mil. Happyrock. {Aside.) Should not have thought it. TJiey 
make some sacrifices for their religion ; I never heard of any you 
made yet. 

Lord Corningham. They are of course an inferior race ; 
superstitiously attached to their religion and their priests,* but 
Ave arc above that sort of thing, too highl}' cultivated ! 

Mr. ITappyrock, {With undisguised contempt.) Oh! quite so, 
sir; quite so, sir; I remember when the Pope made some excellent 
regulations lately. You showed your devotion b}' — ah— not 
accepting them. (Lord Corningham looks confused., the others 
laugh.) 

Lord Corningham. But you will excuse me, ni}' lord, if I 
fail to see what religion has to do with all this.* Sir, we arc 
anxious to help you. I mean, we wish to show our loyalty to 
England. Those wretched Irish are so disloyal. I really do hope, 
sir ; you will not suppose we English Catholics take the least 
interest — I mean have the least affection for tliem. "We have got 
all we want, and we really do not see what they want. 

]Mr. Happyrock. {Aside, with infinite disgust.) Of course you 
don't see what they want. You took care not to know, in their 
time of deep distnss, when even Protestants felt for them and 
made sacrifices for them.; 

Well, gentlemen ; the arrangements I propose will secure your 
rents ; not rack-rents certainly, but fair rents ; and if you will 
take an old man's advice, you will be content with fair rents. 
If you do not, believe me, the time is not far off when you will 
get no rents at all. Greed overmasters itself, and honesty is the 
best policy even for a landlord. 



* A Fact.— This was said lately in the English Catholic Tablet, 



28 Tim cautts trial; 

All. But we want our rents. We want protection for our 
property. We must have trial by jury done away with.* 

Mr. Happyrock. 1 think, m}^ lords and gentlemen, you might 
be satisfied with conviction for crime, and not ask for conviction 
for suspicion. As to you, my Lord Petty Petty, I never even 
heard of an outrage committed on you or your property, except 
your donkey's tail, and I think it was hardly necessary to get the 
district proclaimed in consequence, or to demand that trial by 
jury should be abolished in Ireland, because no one was convicted 
for it. But men of your class never learn, and I may well leave 
you to your fate. 

As to these Catholic gentlemen, they have expressed their 
opinions and objections very freely. I congratulate them on 
their honestj'" and I offer them the homage of my respectful — 
contempt. You all have, I see, one common object — yourselves ; 
if you cared for England — your own country — you would care 
for Ireland ; and you would try by justice, fair dealing, and by 
the very trifling self-sacrifices necessary in a time of dire calamity 
to do good to England. You have made yourselves hated in 
Ireland ; and yoM have made England despised by every civil- 
ized nation, and, I am told, it was not a Protestant landlord, it 
was a Catholic, who in all the starvation of last year actually put 
a tax on the sea-snails the poor wretches were picking up off the 
sea-shore to keep bare life in them.f 

I suspect, gentlemen, the time is past when you will be able to 
treat your tenants as if they were your slaves ; when you will be 
able to forbid them to marry ; when you will no longer be able 



* A Fact. — The Marquis of Lansdowne brought in a Bill to the House of 
Lords to get the Irish jury laws altered, because the government could not 
get persons convicted on suspicion ! ! ! 

tA Fact.— Published in the London Daily News^ and told to me by the 
special correspondent of the paper whom I asked was it possible it could be 
true. No wonder when even Catholic landlords so far forget common honesty 
that Ireland should be trampled on and the people enslaved by the English 
government. England gets bad examples from some of those who should give 
her the best examples if they lived up to the teaching of their holy Faith. 



OR, WHISTLING AT LANDLORDS. 29 

to double rents already oppressive by fines, and by making your 
tenants work for you in the harvest and the spring without pay- 
ment as if they were slaves. Some of you occupy yourselves a 
good deal with foreign missions. I think, if j'ou began your 
missions at home it would be better both for yourselves and for 
England. 

{The deputation of landlords all take out large icJdte pocket-hand 
kerchiefs and commence weeping, and icith great gesticulation, turning 
to each other, say :) 

All. 'Tis your fault, sir ; it's yours, my lord. 

1st Voice. Why did you raise your rents ? Could you not 
have got it out of them some other way ? 

2nd Voice. Wh}^ did you sell that lime at fifty per cent above 
the market p; ice ? 

3rd Voice. Wliy did you raise the rent for that tenant of 
yours because he built a house at his own expense ? 

All. {Cry and sob.) Oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! We're done ; we're 
undone ; we're done, oh ! oh ! What can we do ? 

1st Voice. Let us raise the cry that the throne is in danger. 
Anyone refusing to pay our rack rent is trying to overthrow the 
throne and constitution. 

2nd Voice. Glorious constitution. 

3rd Voice. Let's go over to Rome, let's get the Pope to stop 
the priests ; and we will soon put down the peop>le ; and we'll 
put half of them in jail and terrify the other half. 

4th Voice. Oh ! oh ! oh ! I'm afraid the Pope won't do it. 
You see the Irish bishops are nearl}^ all for the people. 



80 TIM C ARTY 8 TRIAL; 

(The landlords all attack each other with threatening gestures whtle 
singing. Each sings a line or part of a line and they all join in the 
chorus.) 

Chorus. 

Air. — " 'Twas you, sir ; 'tis true, sir." 

'Twas yon, sir ; 'tis true, sir, 
I tell 3^011 nothing new, sir ; 
'Twas you that got us in this fix. 
'Twas you, sir ; you. 

Chorus. — No, sir ; no, sir ; 

No, no, no, no, sir ; 

'Twas you that raised the tenants' rents. 

'Twas you, sir ; you. 

Oh ! sir ; no, sir ; 
How can you talk up so, sir; 
'Twas you put fines, sir, on the rent. 
Oh ! fie, sir ; fie ! 

No, sir; etc. 

No, sir ; no, sir ; 

I say it was not so, sir ; 

I only made them feed my dogs, 

That could not make a row, sir. 

No, sir ; etc. 

No, sir ; no, sir ; 

I am not such a fool, sir ; 

I only took their fowl and geese, 

That should not make a stir, sir. 

No, sir ; etc. 



OR, WHISTLING AT LANDLORDS, 



31 



Oh, sir ; oh, sir ; 

I fear we're all undone, sir ; 

AVe don't know how this thing will end, 

And we must cut and run, sir. 

No, sir ; etc. 

{AU run aboKt the stage wildly.) 

1st. Voice. Why did you sell your lime so dear ? 

2nd. Voice. Why did you raise your rent ? 

3rd. Voice. And why, oh! ichy, with cent per cent. 
Could you not be content ? 

(All to each othei'.) 

Twas you, sir ; 'tis true, sir ; 
You wanted more and more, sir ; 
You bound your tenants hand and foot, 
And so made all this stir, sir. 

{Landlords form a half circle and continue singing and gesticiilailng 
violently at each other.) 

'Twas you, sir ; 'tis true, sir ; 

I tell you nothing new, sir ; 

'Twas 5'ou that raised the widows' rent. 

'Twas you, sir ; you. 

Oh, sir; no, sir ; 

We're all in the one boat, sir ; 

And we must sink or float, sir. . 

'Twas you, sir ; you. 



End of Second Act. 



oo 



TIM CARTTS TRIAL; 



1 



ACT III. 

Opening Song, Duett and Chorus. 

Air. — " The Whistling Thief.'' 

Landlord, When Pat came o'er the hill, 

Sir, I could plainly see, 
A whistle low and shrill, 

The signal w^as to be. 
I shouted out, police, 

Catch that young blackguard, sir. 

Pat. Och ! y'er honor ; 'twas only the wind, 

Was whistling up from the sea. 
Was whistling up from the sea. 

Landlord. You blackguard, 5'ou know the wind 
At my bidding should cease to blow, 
I've the power to loose and bind. 
All creatures here below, 
All creatures here below. 

Pat. That's thrue, but you know the wind 

Mightn't know 'twas a landlord spoke, 
And faith, I think the wind, 
Knows how many a lease you broke. 
Knows how many a lease you broke. 



L^.NDLORD. And then there's these dirty pigs. 
When I ride my bicycle down, 
Are always under my feet. 
In this dirty Irish town. 



OR, WHISTLING AT LANDLORDS. 



38 



How dare these pigs to run 
In the face of an agent ? mark — 

I'll have every pig of yours fined 
This night before it's dark.* 



{Dogs hark in tTie distance. ) 



Landlord. The dogs are barking now — 

They shall bark to another tune. 



Pat. 



Sure, your honor, the dogs will bark, 
Whenever they see tlie moon, 
Whenever they see the moon. 



Landlord, Is it these Irish hounds, 

When they know I'm lord of the place ; 
High treason it is to bark 
In my lord or the agent's face. 
In my lord or the agent's face. 

I'm not such a fool as you think, 

I know you're a rascal, Pat, 
You shall hang, j^ou whistling thief, 

I've made up my mind to that, 

I've made up my mind to that. 

I'll have none of these Land League tricks, 
They sha'nt play their pranks upon me ; 

I'm nearly astray in my mind, 
Myself and my family, 
Myself and my family. [Exit all. 



* A Fact. 



34 TIM C ARTY' 8 TRIAL; 

Scene. — The Whistling Mite is hronght into court by two tery tall 
policemen, fully armed. He is placed in the dock, where nothing is to 
he seen of him, except tM very top> of his head. 

Mr. Justice (wants to be Lord Chancellor) is on the bench and 
natimdly ii'ishes to please the ''Fostering'"' government of IreJand^ 
and the acting government — the landlord''.'^. 

Mr. Wiley (wishes to be jud^-e Q. C.) leads for the crown, 
having been retained ''' sjiecial,''^ instructed by Mr. Costs, the crown 
solicitor. 

Mr. Fearless, who is not a Q. C, ojid indeed is never likely to be 
one, or a judge eitfter, defeyids the prisoner for the Land League, in- 
structed by Val. Dillon. There is « showy bar and. a long brief. 
Indictment is read out in court, after silence has been called by the 
Crier : 

Indictment. 

\^Whereas, on the {put in the day) in the year of (Irish) 
misery, 1886, the herein -named Patrick, otherwise called 
Pat and by his mother, ma bov.chal, known also by the 
surname of Hate the Saxon, so-called on the maternal side, 
did violently, fraudulently, diabolically, traitorously, hid- 
eously, malevolentl}'', persistently, practically, perpetually, 
perniciously, mercilessly, and cruelly whistle in the presence 
of the peaceful and humane tenant-farmer-exterminator, Mr. 
Rackrektem, J. P., and did thereby endanger the peace of 
our much-enduring lady, the queen, whose devotion to and 
love for her Irish subjects obliges her constantly to go to 
Scotland to weep in solitude over their miseries; and, WJiereas, 
her peace and life is plainly aimed at by this whistling in 
Cork, and in fact by the existence of the Irish everywhere; 
and, Whereas, the Irish are always showing their ingratitude 
to her by doing something, or causing something to be done 
which prevents her from extending to them her royal favor, 
as for example; WJiereas, of malice preforce and excited there- 
unto by the Land League, (the source of all evil), did compass 
and produce the death of her favorite and dearly beloved 



OR, WHISTLING AT LANDLORDS. 35 

subject, the Earl of Baconside, at the very time that the 
Cork races were being carried out, so that her son, the Prince 
of Dublin was thereby, in consequence of the excesses of his, 
or her — I mean her and his grief, unable to come to the said 
races and was in fact obliged to run over to Paris instead, to 
the no small loss of her Irish subjects (and his own); and 
WJweas, the said Patrick, alias Pat, alias ma houcJial, alias 
Hate the Saxon, has done a most serious and malignant injury 
to her most dcvoted-to-Ireland Majesty the Queen, thereby 
endangering the loss of her patronage and affection for that 
wicked and ungrateful people; and, Whereas, the said Patrick, 
alias Pat, alias Hate the Saxon, has committed the fearful 
outrage and ingratitude of whistling at the aforesaid Mr. 
Rackrentem, J. P. , thereby causing him great mental per- 
turbation, and placing him in great phj'sical fear, and induc- 
ing heart disease, a disease hitherto unknown to that gentle- 
man, he not having been previously aware that he had such 
an organ ; and Whereas, he feels, and has been made to feel, 
mortal terror in consequence of the outrage committed on 
him by the said Pat, so that it may be truly said of him : 

My hair was grey, 

It now is white. 
It turned a shade 

With this terrible fright ; 

and, Wliereas, he has suffered severely in his vocal organs, 
from the exertion of calling the police to rescue him from 
this Pat or Patrick. The police being always and generall}'" 
never at the place where they are most wanted. The said 
Pat is to be tried by an uncommon jury selected by the 
landlord protectors of Ireland. 



{The Crier boxes to ilie Judge.) 

The Judge. Call the jury panel, sir. 
Crier, Tim O'Sullivan. 



36 TIM CARTY'S TRIAL; 

Tim O'Sullivan. Here, sir 

Mr. "Wants-to-be-Judge Q. C. {objects) Tim is a member of 
the Land League, my lord. 

Judge. {Seriously addressing Tim.) Go down, sir ; you ought 
to be asliamed of 3''0urself, sir ; Land League, indeed. I'll make 
a Land League of you, and land you into Kilmainham jail, sir. 

Crier. Thomas Brownrigg. 

Thomas Brownrigg. Here, sir. 

Mr. Fearless. I object, my lord. He is rent-wamcr to 
Lord Evictem, and he would soon be evicted himself, if he gave 
evidence according to his conscience. 

Judge. Nonsense, sir ; nonsense. Lord Evictem is a most 
respectable gentleman. 

(Thomas Brownrigg is made foreman of the jury.) 

Crier. James McCarthy. 

James McCarthy. Here, sir. 

Mr. Wants-to-be-Judge. I object, my lord. His lordship 
sent some of his hounds to tliis fellow to rear for him and ho had 
the impudence to say he wanted every drop of milk he had for 
his children. 

Judge. Stand down, sir; you are quite unfit for the severe 
responsibility of such a case as this. 

Crier. John Mahoney. 

John Mahoney. Here, sir. 



OR, WHISTLING AT LANDLORDS. 37 

Mr. Wants-to-be-Judge. {Hurriedly whispers to Judge.) Pass 
him, my lord ; pass liim. He is a souper — I, ahem — I mean, 
lie is a good Protestant. 

Mk. Fearless. My lord, I object. 

Judge. Sir, you have no business to object. Next time, sir; I 
presume, 3^ou will object to me. 

Voice m the Crowd. Faith and he might do worse. 

Judge. Silence, sir. Crier, see that the court is cleared. Put 
out every one; every one, I say, sir. 

Voice in the Crowd. Faith, my lord ; that's just what we 
want. If ye'd only begin with putting j^ourself out first. 

Judge. Hold your tongue, sir. Crier, I will report you, sir. 
Police, arrest that man. 

Policeman. Which man, my lord ? 

Judge. Silence, sir ; no one asked you to speak. {Addresses 
the crowd.) I Avill make a clean sweep of this court if one more 
word is said in it. 

Ma. WANTS-etc. My lord — 

A SHOUT IN THE CiiowD. Take him up, arrest him, police- 
man. {Along, loud ichistle.) Hurray boys. {General confusion.) 



(Pat, icish,ing to see the fun, peers out over the box and holds on 
with both hands so as to raise his head up over it. ) 

Judge. Policeman, turn that boy out instantly. 
Policeman. {Respectfully.) Which boy, my lord ? 



38 TIM CARTY'S TRIAL; 

Judge. Put him out, I say. Am I to get ko respect here — 
even from the servants of the queen ? Little boys of his age 
should not be allowed into such a place. 

Voice in the CRO^yD. Thrue for your honor's worship. 

\ Boy's Mother in the Crowd. Ah ! thin, come to your mother, 

iiui houchal ; there's his honor's letting you off. 

Policeman. My lord, this boy is the prisoner. 

Judge. {^Mmtlet<) Why cannot I see him, sir ? Tell him to 
stand up, sir. I will not be treated this way ! 

Policeman. My lord — Please your lordship, he can't stand 
up — I mean — he is standing up. 

Voice in the Crowd. God save Ireland ! 

Chorus {puUide of Court House). 

Oh ! such a wretched country 

As this was never seen, 
For they're trying all our little boys, 

For whistling on the green, 

For whistling on the green. 
For they're trying all our little boys, 

For whistling on the green. 



{Tlie Judge leans back in his seat and lifts up his hands and eyes 
in pious grief ) 

Policeman. My lord, he is very small. He can't help it, my 
lord. 

Voice in the Crowd. Ah! thin, policeman, darlin', comb up 
his hair. Here's a comb, your honor. And sure, if you'd make 



OB, WHISTLING AT LANDLORDS, 39 

it stand up straight, his honor's worship could see the hair of his 
head, anyway. 

Judge. {Sternly to Mr. WANTS-etc.) Go on witli your case, sir. 

Mr. WANTS-etc. My lord, the prisoner at the bar — I mean 
the child in the box — has been charged with the awful crime of 
whistling, and of whistling at a landlord. The words in the 
indictment are defamatory. Imagine, my lord, and gentlemen of 
the jury — (pauses). My lord, I believe we have not got a jury, 
after all, but it does not matter. The}^ are sure not to convict, 
and your lordship can pass sentence all the same — 

YoiCE IN THE Crowd. Glor}^ be to God, and sure he can. 
God help us it would be poor law if we'd be thried this way at 
the Day of Judgment. 

Mr. WANTS-etc. Of course, in a country like this, my lord; the 
law is habitually set at defiance — 

Voice in the Crowd. Och! thin ; but it's thrue for ye. Sure 
it's all agin the poor, and all for the rich. Och ! but y'erthe good 
gentleman entirely, entirely — 

Judge. Go on, sir ; go on. Don't mind interruptions. It 
doesn't matter ; in fact, nothing matters. {He settles himself to 
sleep. ) 

Mr. WANTS-etc. After your lordships profound remarks, 
which show such a high appreciation of law and justice, I will 
continue, though my words, I fear are super — fluous. 

This person — I mean — ahem — this young boy, requires a seri- 
ous lesson to sober him for life, and to teach him his duty in 
that state of life in which the English government has been 
pleased to place him. He must, indeed, be a dreadful, and a 
very hardened little boy, to have so terrified such a very nice 
gentleman ; to have produced in him a heart to beat for his own 
woes, if not for the woes of other people. My lord, if the hearts 



40 TIM C ARTY'S TRIAL; 

of Irish landlords, I mean, of course, if the landlords of Irish 
hearts, are to be affected in this way, the sooner her most gracious 
majesty the queen is advised to give up the crown and constitu- 
tion the better. In fact, no constitution could stand this kind of 
work, and the only crown we would have Avould be a half 
crown. It is fearful to think what one wicked little boy can do, 

{Little hoy's head just looks over the box and pops down again.) 

Mr. WANTS-etc. My lord, as I was saying, when that bad 
boy looked at me, if the hearts of Irish landlords are to be affect- 
ed in this way — I tremble — I tremble, to think of the conse- 
quences. {He turns to the hoy.) Little boy, you have affected the 
heart of an Irish landlord. It is a physiological jDhenomenon to 
find a heart in such a quarter. In fact, the hearts of Irish land- 
lords haA^e been so frequently evicted by their owners and when 
not evicted so completely ossified from want of action that it was 
cruel to awake them. Indeed the words of the poet Moore might 
well be addressed to them, 

I'd mourn the hopes that leave me, 

If my rents had left me too, 
But while I keep my purse well filled, 

I can steel my heart anew — 

and so on, in fact, my lord ; a treatise has been written on the 
whole subject of the hearts of Irish landlords, by the late Mr. 
Cromwell and the revered Mr. Froude to both of whom, embraced 
in each others arms, a statue should be erected in Dublin. 
Indeed speaking of statues in Dublin, I understand the statue of 
justice placed at the Castle gates has its face turned away from 
the people* and that it is proposed to signalize the passing of this 
Bill for the protection of the lives and properties of Irish landlords 
by placing a statue of justice upside down in the law courts. I 
would also advise that a cast of this little boy should be taken 
before he is cast into jail, and kept to be handed down to posterity 

* A Fact. 



ORy WBISTLl^ra AT LANDLORDS, 41 

for the benefit of his ancestors — I mean, of conrse, of his great: 
grand-childron's ancestors, to show how little boys behaved in 
this nineteenth century to their good and loving ''indlords. My 
lord, tears ought to flow. {Adde. I am sorry to say mine won't 
for Lord Dkive-em-out is looking at me) v»-hen one thhiks of 
what a pretty pass things have come to in Ireland. I am grieved, 
my lord, that an unkind Providence caused me to be born in this 
unhappy country, which I can plainl}^ see exists only that I may 
sell it and sever myself from it. I have digressed, my lord ; 
but I return to our original matter, or rather to the little lamb 
before us. When I was a little boy — 

Voice in the Crowd. Faith and sure you w^ere a beauty. 

Another Voice. I don't think it w^as milk his mother fed 
him on. 

Judge. {Tries to look resigned to anything.) Go on, sir ; go on. 
It doesn't matter ; in fact, nothing matters. 

Mr. WANTS-etc. My lord — my lord, I go back to the time 
when I was a little boy — 

Mr. Fearless. My lord, is it necessary for counsel to go into 
the history of his early years ? 

Judge. {Angry at being woke up, hamng just settled himself for 
a quiet doze.) Whose early years, sir ? I know nothing about 
early years, I had no early j^ears, sir. {To counsel.) Go on, sir ; 
go on, sir ; it does'nt matter ; in fact, nothing matters. 

Mr. WANTS-etc. As I was saying, my lord, when I met this 
unseemly interruption to my early years — when I was young — 

( Voice in the crowd, singing softly. ) 

When I was young I had no sense, 
I bought a fiddle for eighteen pence, 

And all the tune that I could play, was 
Get the landlords out of my way, 
Och ! get the landlords out of my way. 



43 TIM CARTYS TRIAL; 

{Judge slwnhers peacefully,) 

Mr. WANTS-etc. {Counsel folds his amis and addresses the crowa 
Qeiwralbj.) Very good, gentlemen, very good. When you are quite 
tinislied singing, I'll go on. 

Voice in the Crowd. Och, go on, yer honor ; yer doing it 
illegant. 

Mr. WANTS-etc. In my early years — 

Judge. ( Waking up. ) Ahem. What, sir ; I think— ahem — 
you might have got over j^our early j-ears, sir. I never had any, 
&ir ; but it docs not matter ; in fact, nothing matters. {Settles him- 
self to sleep again.) 

Mr. WANTS-etc. This little boy, my lord — 

Judge. I thought, sir; we had got past your boyhood's days — 

Voice in the Crowd. Thrue for ye, yer honor. Faith, he's 
past them long ago. 

2nd Voice. Och, sure, he never began 'em. 

Judge. {Now tliorougldy aroused, and very angry.) Silence, 
every one of you. What use are the police ? 

Voice in the crowd. To court the girls, ye'r honour. 

2nd Voice. That's over any wa}^; thegirls won't look at them, 
now they're doing the dirty work for the landlords. 

Judge. I'll stop the trial, sir, I'll bring the horse marines 
down here — I mean the cavalry and till the place with them next 
time I come to the assizes. I'll finif-h the case now myself. 



OB, WHISTLING AT LANDLORDS. 43 

Mr. Fearless. My lord, surely you will allow me to address 
the court for the prisoner. 

Judge. I will not, sir. I'll not allow any addresses, sir. Too 
many addresses already from the Land League, sir. Stand down, 
sir — I mean, sit up, sir — but it doesn't matter ; in fact, nothing 
matters. Policeman, hold up that little boy, I mean the prisoner, 
sir. 

Voice in the Crowd. His mother'U hould him in her arms 
ye'r honor, while you're passing the sentence to let him off. 

Judge. Policeman put him on his head — I mean of course, 
let me see his head, — but it doesn't matter ; in fact, nothing 
matters. {Addresses the hoy, ulio is held up by his arms by twojMice- 
men.) Little boy, in the box, I mean, prisoner at the bar, you 
have, in fact, placed a bar to all your farther proceedings in life 
by your barbarous conduct to this gentleman, a humane tenant- 
farmer-exterminator, Mr. Rackrentem. Why little boys like 
you were ever born is a puzzle which 1 leave to — ahem, — Mr. 
Darwin. Li fact, why little boys are born at all in Ireland is a 
puzzle, because, as a very eminent and distinguished statistician 
observed the other day, if there were no little boys in Ireland 
there would be no men, and then our — I mean the English gov- 
ernment would not have the trouble of making laws for their 
extermination — I mean, of course, emigration, but it doesn't 
matter; in fact — ahem — nothing matters. Little boy, I really don't 
know what is to be done with you. If you had not been born — 
I mean, of course, if you had been born in England you would 
not have been Irish, and everything would have been different. 
Little English boys don't commit such — ahem — trifling ci-imes, 
they do something for which a judge can sentence them. It 
really is quite too absurd to be obliged to pass sentence on what 
I maj' be permitted to call a penny whistle. Why, little boy, were 
you born, and why, little boy, having been born, did you whistle ? 
A little English boy, not much older than you are, was tried the 
other day for murdering his mistress ; that was what I might call 
a sensible crime — I mean, of course, a sentenceable one, but it 



44 TIM CARTT'8 TRIAL; 

doesn't matter ; in fact, nothing matters. He wasn't convicted. 
There being only a ' ' reasonable suspicion " of his guilt. In Eng- 
land, of course, this was no failure of justice, as neither boys 
nor men are allowed to be punished unless their guilt is made 
quite clear. In Ireland, it is happily diiferent. The kind and 
fostering government under which you are placed has arranged 
otherwise. In fact, 3'our foster-father has quite taken the place 
— locus parentis — counsel will understand me — of your natural 
guardians, or rather of your legal guardians, and altogether de- 
prived you of English law w^hich, of course, was never intended 
for you. This thoughtful and parental care has, I fear, been lost 
upon you. In Ireland, little boy, as you probably know, suspicion 
reasonable or unreasonable is quite sufficient. Such is the be- 
nevolence of your government — I mean, of course, of the way in 
which you are governed, but it doesn't matter ; in fact, nothing 
matters. Your father, I am told, by the gentleman whom you 
so cruelly insulted, has been the object of this special parental 
attention on the part of your good English foster-father. Oh ! 
little boy, I am ashamed of you ! I grieve for you — I weep to 
think of it. This excellent gentleman assured the priest of your 
parish, before the act for the protection of his life and property 
was passed that if all his tenants did not pay rents* he would 
take care the act should be put in force against them, and if they 
did pay him he would take care they should not suffer thereby. 
This was, of course, most humane on his part, but I regret to say, 
I deeply regret to say his humanity was not appreciated as it 
should have been. Your father actually refused to pay his rent. 
In fact, he had the insolence to say he had not got it. Two of 
his cows, he said, had died, and his daughter in America who had 
sent home money every year before to help to pay the rent, was 
ill. I would like to know how he dare offer such excuses. Why 
should his cows have died more than anyone else's cows, and why 
should his daughter have been ill. It is a — ahem — rascally 
outrage, and a specimen of the "way in which Irish tenants are 
always excusing themselves, when asked to pay their lawful debts. 
Your father was very properly arrested on suspicion. If he did 
not intend to refuse to pay his rent, he probably would have in- 



* A Fact, See Appendix. 



on, WHISTLING AT LANDLORDS. 45 

tended it at some future time, and your good and kind landlords 
are now gifted with the power (once supposed to be only divine) 
of seeing into your most inmost thoughts, and then of ' 'suspecting" 
what you intend, or may at some future time intend to do. 
Hence all this care of you — in fact, the only thing you have any 
right to intend to do in Ireland is to intend to emigrate, and the 
sooner you do that the better. Every one should emigrate. 
There are twice too manj^ people in the countr3^ already. Why 
some of 3^ou were born has always been an inexplicable myster}' 
to me. You might have known, in fact, — ahem — you should 
have known 3'ou were not wanted. You are in the wa}'- of — of 
everybod}^, in fact, there is not a landlord in Ireland who has not 
said repeatedly that they could get on better without you. It 
has, indeed, sometimes occurred to mj'self that there might be a 
difficulty in cultivating the land if there was no one to do it, and 
that — ahem — in fact, if you all left in a body nobod}'' would re- 
main, but they don't seem to see it somehow, but it doesn't 
matter; infact — ahem — nothing matters. Only I suppose if you 
all left, it would remove a great social difficulty, and, in fact, save 
your kind and good landlords a deal of trouble. They would, I 
suppose, import Chinese, for it does seem to me that some kind 
of rent-producing machine would be required. You, as far as I 
can learn, would go farther and fare better. Why then, in the 
name of heaven, don't you go and leave the country, where you 
had no business to be born, and which j^ou c^rtainl}^ have no 
business to Jivc in. 1 hear some one say something about provi- 
dence putting you here. Quite a mistake, sir. We have nothing 
to do wit h providence. All that is given up in England, long ago. 
The— ahem— greatest good of the smallest number is the great 
lesson of modern science. For example, if you, little boy, had 
never been born, you would not be where you are, but being born, 
unfortunately, the one thing to do is to get you somewhere else 
as quickly as possible. Under ordinary circumstances I would 
have recommended a forcible application of the — ahem — mater- 
nal slipper, as the fittest punishment for your crime, but unfortun- 
ately your mother has no slipper ; in fact, she has not a sole to her 
heel, another evidence of the lamentable depravity of the Irish 
race. Why Irish women do not wear shoes and stockings is 



46 TIM C ARTY'S TMIAL ; 

beyond my comprehension. All the women and little girls do in 
England, but then, of course, England is not Ireland, and it does 
not matter ; in fact, nothing matters. 

But, little boy, to return to you. I am lost in amazement at 
your ingratitude. How could you whistle at your good and kind 
landlord? Don't you know, little boy, when there was said to 
be some— ahem— distress last year, he made the very best of it 
for you by writing to the English papers to say it didn't exist, 
and that, if it did, it really didn't matter ; in fact, that nothing 
matters ; except, of course, making you do your duty in life ; 
to pay your rents. What more could he have done for you, ex- 
cept, indeed, to give you food, or encourage other people to give 
it to'you ; but that would have been bad for you, in fact, quite 
demoralizing. At the same time, he gave £1,000 towards the 
election expenses of a friend in England. As he is naturally 
anxious to have you properly represented in the English parlia- 
ment, and as gentlemen who have never been m Ireland are the 
most 'suited for that purpose, as, knowing nothing, they cannot 
be prejudiced in your favor. Prejudice, little boy, is very 
wicked, and nothing but prejudice could cause your wicked 
whistling. Then, you know, little boy, how your landlord 
brought over a number of clever gentlemen from England to see 
how well off you were, and how happy and contented ; and one 
gentleman from France, who, as he could not understand one 
word of English, was of course a great deal more likely to un- 
derstand the Irish question. Then, knowing there is nothing 
half so good for a struggling man as to raise his rent, he took 
the opportunity of doing so, and having borrowed money very 
cheaply from government ; he employed you at your own ex- 
pense, and kindly made you pay for it after by raising your rent, 
and told his English friends there was no manure for land so good 
as Raising the Rent. 

{Loud shouts outdde.Singing, cheering, etc.) 

Voice. {Shouts out.) Cable message just arrived. Ireland 
Free ! I ! Mr. Gladstone's Bill to give Ireland a Parliament of 
her own passed by tremendous majority ! . 

END. 



OPENING SONG AND CHORUS. 



I WISH YOU THE TOP OP THE MOKNINa. 









My 



heart's dear love, but there 



IS— 



:p~ 



— # — # — — — *-*-[-. 



i 






:i=ti:: 



Th6 dawn ou the jiills of Ireland— God's an - gel's lift - Ing 



-K — K — ^- 



'-3—Z- 






the night's black veil, From the fair sweet face of my sire -land! 



--K : 1) 



: ^ T-\-0 ^ 1 1 



O Ire - land, isn't it grand you look, Like a bride in 

_,, ^..=-. J N- 



her rich 

— 

E3E 



i?=3: 



a - dorn-ing. And with all the pent up love 



=F=t=F=F=F=F 

of my heart— I wish you the top of the morning 
CSOM USf single voices. 



s 



p 



c£±=z± 



-_, -_ I 



0- 



-± 



-0 



-S- 



I ) 1 

'■ s a ~ -i 0- 



I wish you the top of the morning— I wish you the 




top of the morning. 



Oh!. 



Ire - land dear, 

repeat chorus loith all tlie voices. 




don't you hear me shout, I wish you the top of the morning. 



48 TIM C ARTY'S TRIAL; 

2. 

This one short hour pays lavishly back, 
For maDy a year of mourning ; 

I'd almost venture another flight, 
There's so much joy in returning ; 

Watching out for the hallowed shore, 
All other attractions scornin' ! 

I wish 3^ou the top o' the mornin' ! 
I wish you the top o' the mornin' ! 
O Ireland, dear ! don't you hear me shout ! 
I wish you the top o' the mornin' ! 



Ho ! ho ! upon Cleena's shelving strand. 

The surges are grandlj' beating, 
And Kerry is pushing her headlands out 

To give us the kindly greeting ; 
Into the shore the sea-birds fl\% 

On pinions that know no drooping ; 
And out from the cliffs, with welcomes charged, 

A million of waves come trooping. 

I wish you the top o' the mornin' ! 
I wish you the top o' the mornin' ! 
O Ireland, dear ! don't you hear me shout ! 
I wish you the top o' the mornin' ! 



4. 



O kindly, generous, Irish land, 

So leal, and fair, and loving. 
No wonder the wandering Celt should think 

And dream of you in his roving ! 



OR, WHISTLING AT LANDLORDS. 49 

The alien home may have gems and gold, 

Shadows may never have gloomed it ; 
But the heart will sigh for the absent land. 

Where the love-light first illumed it. 

I wish you the top o' the mornin' ! 
■ I wish you the top o' the mornin' ! 
O Ireland, dear ! don't you hear me shout ! 
I wish 3''ou the top o' the mornin' ! 



A.nd doesn't t' old Cove look charming there, 

Watching the wild wave's motion, 
Leaning her back up against the hills. 

And the top of her toes on the ocean. 
I wonder I don't hear Shandon's bells, 

Ah ! maybe their chiming's over, 
For it's many a year since I began 

The life of a western rover. 

I wish you the top o' the mornin' ! 
I wish you the top o' the mornin' ! 
O Ireland, dear ! don't you hear me shout ! 
I wish you the top o' the mornin' ! 

6. 

For thirty summers, astore machree, 

Those hills I now feast my eyes on 
Ne'er met my vision save when they rose 

Over memory's dim horizon. 
E'en so 'twas grand and fair they seemed, 

In the landscape spread before me. 
But dreams are dreams, and my eyes would ope. 

To see Texas' sky still o'er me. 

I wish you the top o' the mornin' ! 
I wish you the top o' the mornin' ! 
O Ireland, dear ! don't you hear me shout ! 
I wish you the top o' the mornin' ! 



50. TIM CARTT8 TRIAL; 

7. 

Ah ! often upon the Texan plain, 

When the day and the chase were over, 
My thoughts would fly o'er the weary wave, 

And around this coast-line hover. 
And the prayer would rise that some future day, 

All danger and doubtings scornin', 
I'd help to win for my native land 

The light of young liberty's mornin'. 

I wish you the top o' the mornin' ! 
I wish 3'^ou the top o' the mornin' ! 
O Ireland, dear ! don't j'^ou hear me shout ! 
I wish you the top o' the mornin' ! 



Now fuller and truer the shore-line shows — 

AVas ever a scene so splendid ? 
I feel the breath of the Munster breeze ; 

Thank God that my exile's ended. 
Old scenes, old songs, old friends again, 

The vale and cot 1 was born in ! 
O Ireland, up from my heart of hearts, 

I wish you the top o' the mornin' ! 

I wish you the top o' the mornin' ! 
I wish 3'ou the top o' the mornin' ! 
O Ireland, dear ! don't you hear me shout ! 
I wish you the top o' the mornin' ! 




APPENDIX 



APPENDIX. 



It may be thought that one part of this play is severe on English 
Catholics. To condemn them en masse would be as unjust as 
most 'universal condemnations are. But there is no doubt, in 
fact, there is very ample proof, that English Catholics have not 
taken the practical interest in the welfare of Irish Catholics to 
which even the interest of a common religion should have bound 
them. The cause of this is not fai to seek. A pamphlet has 
been published lately in England bearing the title "We 
Catholics," it has had a verj^ large circulation, possibly because 
of its profuse laudations of certain literary English Catholics. 
It might be supposed, indeed, from the fulsome dedication t(; a 
Mr. Cox, that English Catholics were the only Catholics of any 
account in the Universal Church, and that Mr. Cox was destined 
to be their prophet. The author addresses him thus : "Versed 
in the wisdom of the world, you inherit besides, and, I will add, 
you illustrate the traditions of Fidelity to the Faith handed 
down to you from your own fathers, and by your mother, from 
the Welds, and I see in you a future Publicist to whom is open 
the happy possibility of restoring to our community that esprit 
de cojys for which I venture in the following pages to plead." 

The last sentence is the key note of the pamphlet. But in 
what is this esprit de corps made to consist, which is to accom- 
plish such wonders for [English] Catholics ? Apparently it is to 
form a Mutual Admiration Society as a bond to keep *' We 
[English] Catholics " together. How poor is all this in the face 
of the real and terrible dangers of worldliness which are the 
true evils to be feared, especially by English Catholics, who§e 



54 APPENDIX, 

social position lias gained an advance which may be far more 
dangerous to their interests than they at present suppose ; but 
)iot one word is said in tlie pamphlet, from cover to cover, on 
the subject of Irish Catholics. They are as completely ignored 
us if no such persons existed. Certainly, with all reverence I say 
it, this was not the esjwit de corj)s of the Apostles, or of the early 
Christians. I am afraid Lord Kenmare hardly likes to be called 
an Irish Catholic, but he is one all the same, and he is singled out 
for special attack by the author of this flowery pamphlet. And 
for what ? Simply because the anonymous writer thinks that 
Lord Kenmare licensed some plays which were not up to his 
standard of morality. On this subject I express no opinion, as I 
am entirely and happily ignorant as to the grounds of this charge. 
But why has this person nothing to say of Lord Kenmare's 
treatment of his Irish tenants ? Are they so altogether out of 
the paths of grace, or civilization, as to be refused admission to 
the wonderful " We " ? Are these Irish tenants not Catholics, 
as well as the great English " We," who are so earnestly urged 
to praise one another ? Writing of Lord Kenmare, the author of 
" We Catholics" says : '' Sister M. Francis Clare is said to be in 
want of a Mission ; and I therefore venture to propose to her one 
which only the possession of undaunted energy would allow her 
to undertake, and which at the same time gives grounds for the 
continuance of her title. The Nun of Kenmare. Having left the 
town, let her devote herself to the Earl of that ilk ; and by letters, 
pamphlets, and the pastorals of friendly Bishops, endeavor to 
arouse the moral consciousness of the department of the Lord 
Chamberlain ! " 

This curiously written sentence contains as many false state- 
ments as there are lines, and it gives evidence, if evidence were 
needed, how little English Catholics care even to know the 
simplest matter about Irish affairs. 

Sister M. Francis Clare is not in want of a Mission. She has 
a noble one given to her by the Head of the Holy Catholic 
Church, and if the opposition of "We Catholics," of the type of 
this writer has prevented her for a time, at least, from carrying 



APPENDIX. 55 

it out in Ireland, their power is limited by the holy will of God, 
and she will work, and is working for her people elsewhere. 

Her mission certainly was not pleasing to certain English 
Catholics who own large property in Ireland for very obvious 
reasons. If her reports given to the whole world through the 
Press were true, her statement that poor Irish Catholics were not 
treated by their English Catholic landlords with that esprit de 
corps which the Apostles preached to the early Christians, it is 
little wonder that her mission was very distasteful to them. 

It would be an insult if it was not too great an absurdity to 
suggest that the Nun of Kenmare w^ould occupy herself by 
writing ' ' letters, pamphlets, and the pastorals of friendly Bishops, 
endeavor to arouse the moral consciousness of the department 
of the Lord Chamberlain ! " or whatever this curiously construct- 
ed sentence may mean. 

One of the most beloved and truly patriotic Archbishops of 
America wiiose letter is now before us, has given the true cause 
w^hy the Nun of Kenmare has had the misfortune to displease 
"We Catholics," and further this prelate has written from per- 
sonal and accurate knowledge : as he was in Ireland at the time. 

In a letter to the Very Rev. Canon B , his grace says : "A 

ve*y sad news has reached me that the good Sister Mary Francis 
Clare had to leave Knock, and her Convent unfinished, owing to 

the opposition of and that the Providence of God has 

opened a door for her in England by the good Bishop of Notting- 
ham who even vacated his own house for the good Nun, whose 
efforts in Ireland were so thwarted. God help poor Ireland ! 

" She is a lady of very great intellect, of large mind, and large 
heart, exceedingly charitable to the poor, loved her country 
earnestly, perhaps too much for the tastes of her opponents. 
The government and landlords may now rejoice, that they got 
rid of one who so ably exposed their crimes and wickedness. 
Of course she won't have the same occasion to write in England 
as she has had in Ireland. 

"3Iany a good and religious patriotic heart will weep over 
this sad stroke to Ireland and Knock, as Christ wept over Jeru- 
salem." 



56 APPENDIX. 

The author of "We Catholics " is as ignorant of Irish affairs 
as he is of what has been done in Rome to enable the Kun of 
Kenmare to establish her Mission of Peace. The town of Ken- 
mare is not on the property of Lord Kenmare. We believe he 
obtains his title from a little village of the same name near 
Limerick. *■ 

The town of Kenmare and the surrounding districts belong to 
the Marquis of Lansdowne, the present Governor-General of 
Canada, and one of the most active exterminators of the L'isli 
race by emigration. 

The following extracts from a '' Report of the English Miners' 
Delegation to Kerry " will show that the Marquis of Lansdowne 
was as much interested in the Nun of Kenmare's leaving Ireland 
as any of the many landlords whose unhappy tenants she was 
the means of saving from starvation : 

" There are few, indeed, as well acquainted w^ith the causes of 
the present condition of this country as Sister Mary Francis 
Clare, the world-famed Nun of Kenmare. Her life has been 
devoted to the study of the history of the nation, to the examin- 
ation of the idiosyncracies, the customs, and the aspirations of 
the people, and her writings on these subjects have a recognized 
nnportance which puts them beyond the reach of our humble 
encomium. We would, therefore, have been guilty of an unpar- 
donable breach of duty had we passed through Kenmare without 
calling on the lady whose charity and genius have made the 
name of this hamlet a household word among all civilized 
nations. There was fearful distress in and around Kenmare 
during 1879, and Sister Mary Francis Clare did all she pos- 
sibly could to alleviate it. While she was thus making 
the most bitter sacrifices to save the people from starvation. 
Lord Lansdow^ne and his agent Mr. Trench, were doing all 
they could to counteract her influence and stop charitably- 
disposed persons from giving subscriptions. It would seem 
that it suited Lord Lansdowne's purpose to deny that any 
body on his estate was suffering any hardship whatever, and, 
that whoever was so positioned, it was through thriftlessness or 
laziness. Distress is chronic here, and last week a deputation 



APPENDIX. 67 

of laborers came to Sister Mary Francis Clare, at the Convent, 
seeking for employment. They represented about fiftj' families, 
and having got little or no work or food for some weeks, they 
were in a state of desperation. There were then some public 
works in the neighborhood to be done for which a government 
loan had been obtained, and there had been some delay in open- 
ing them. The Sister at once telegraphed to the gentleman who 
had charge of these works, telling him that if they were not 
opened in twenty -four hours, she would have the matter brought 
before Parliament. She got a reply to the effect that they would 
be opened in twenty-four hours. In the meantime she set the 
men to work at little jobs at one shilling and six pence per day, 
but at the same time she did not know how she would get the 
money to pay them. 'Go to work,' she said to them, 'and 
God will provide your wages.' The next morning she received 
a letter from the Viceroy of India, the Marquis of Ripon, enclos- 
ing a check for £10. 

During the period over which the distress continued in Ire- 
land, the Nun of Kenmare distributed in various parts of the 
country £15,000 which had been sent to her from all parts of the 
world. " 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




017 197 236 A 



